


Gossip

by Brenda



Series: The Lazy Hazy Summer Daze Writing Challenge [4]
Category: National Football League RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-02
Updated: 2013-08-02
Packaged: 2017-12-22 05:13:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,343
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/909336
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Brenda/pseuds/Brenda
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which the old saying that quarterbacks are worse than old women for gossip is true as hell.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Gossip

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the fourth day of the **[The Lazy Hazy Summer Daze Writing Challenge](http://azewewish.livejournal.com/1074772.html)** for [](http://idiosyncratic.livejournal.com/profile)[**idiosyncratic**](http://idiosyncratic.livejournal.com/) and [](http://zortified.livejournal.com/profile)[](http://zortified.livejournal.com/)**zortified** , who both asked for NFL RPS.

"Scoot over," Ben says, setting a half dozen bottles of beer on the table. He drops on the bench seat next to Matt (his Matt, not either of Tom's, and Jesus, could the NFL stop hiring guys called Matt already, Ben's got a hard enough time remembering shit without everyone having the same friggin' name), and pours one of the bottles into his empty glass. "I have some serious news to impart."

Tom – who's sort of sprawled comfortably next to his Matts (or, rather, Ben thinks, it should be that Matt Cassel's the one with the harem, not Tom, since he's the fulcrum of the whole thing, but whatever, it's not like Ben's got a real stake in that argument) – gives Ben a cool stare from across the small table tucked in the corner of the country club that's hosting the fundraiser. At least it's reached that time of the night when everyone's shed their coats and ties and has gotten into some serious relaxing. That, and the DJ's been pretty good, Ben thinks. Well, and free alcohol's a good perk. Biggest lifesaver on the planet.

"Should I be scared to ask what it was you did this time?" Tom asks, while Matt (Leinart, not Cassel, and fuck it, everyone's getting referred to by their last name from now on, he's too old for this shit) snickers into his glass.

"Me?" Ben points at himself with wide eyes. "Dude, fuck you, I didn't do anything. I said I had _news_ , not that I was in the middle of something." He turns to his Matt – Hasselbeck – and frowns. "You're not even gonna defend me?"

"Sure, when you actually start looking like a damsel in distress and not an NFL quarterback capable of cracking heads and taking names," Hasselbeck grins, and see, Ben should be mad right now, but his Matt flashes those damn dimples, and he's done, game over, lights out. It's not even fair.

"I don't even know why I'm bothering with you ingrates," Ben sighs, but then he remembers his news, and shit, he's got to tell someone, and he can't find Troy, so these clowns'll have to do. "I just ran into Alex and Larry with their woman, wife, whatever the hell she is –"

"Her name's Maggie and she's Alex's wife and Larry's woman," Cassel says, like he's being helpful. Like that explains anything. See, this is why threesomes are bad. The logistics are way too complex – Like Cassel and Tom, for instance, all legally married and shit, but _also_ committed, with a ceremony and everything and rings and all that shit, to Leinart. It's enough to make Ben's brain hurt.

"Right, that. Her, the hot Filipino chick. Anyway, not the point –" Even though hot women were _always_ a topic worth discussing "- the point is, Alex and I are doing the whole, hey man, how you doin', good luck with KC this season, sorry about the way the Niners treated you, yada yada, and making small talk with Larry about his summer football camp and maybe getting involved with that, and fucking Romo comes smack up to the bar looking like he's seen a damn ghost, all white and shit, which I swear, dude's pale enough already –"

Hasselbeck squeezed his knee. "Get to the point, babe. No one cares about Tony Romo's white boy complexion."

Like his Matt has room to talk, as white boy as he is, but Ben keeps it to himself. "I'm telling this story, dude, and it's relevant. It's color commentary, setting the scene and all that shit."

"You've been letting him read again, haven't you?" Tom asks, with that patented shit-eating grin of his that he pulls out when he thinks he's being funny. (Newsflash: Tom is _never_ as funny or as clever as he thinks he is.)

"Haha, you're a fucking comedian. _Any_ -fucking-way, Alex and Larry and I are all, dude, you okay, what's up, and Tony's all, it's cool, he's cool, but if we could find a way to keep T.O. from him tonight, he'd find a way to repay us, and then he grabs a drink from the bar and disappears. And I'm all, what the fuck was that, and Alex is all, oh, guess that didn't end well, and I'm all, huh, and Alex says that Tony and T.O.'d had a total torrid affair – Alex's words, not mine – when T.O. was in Dallas, but it ended super badly and that's why T.O. got traded and T.O.'s had it out for Tony ever since."

Ben stops, pleased with himself for getting the jump on some juicy gossip for once, but when he looks around the table, no one's looking remotely surprised or shocked. _Seriously??_

"Oh, c'mon, man, don't tell me you guys all knew."

"I knew," Leinart says, shrugging. "You could tell by the way they acted around each other that there was something going on."

"Wasn't that hard to figure that they were doing the dirty on the down-low," Tom adds.

"Let's just say I'm not surprised," Cassel says, and when Ben turns to his Matt, he just lifts his shoulders.

"Tony's shit about keeping his emotions in check, and it's not like Terrell's any better."

"Man, you guys all suck."

"Hey, it's good to have confirmation," Tom grins. "And if Alex says it's true, it definitely is. Knowing him, chances are he's slept with both of them, probably at the same time."

"Nah, Alex is a slut, especially for hot black dudes, but he's got _some_ taste," Leinart replies.

Cassel gives him an amused glance. "You only say that because Alex slept with you before you got together with us."

Leinart spreads his hands wide open. "Like I said, babe, he's got taste."

"I just wanna know why it ended," Hasselbeck muses.

"Tony probably got tired of putting up with Terrell's crazy," Ben guesses. "I mean, Tony's not the sharpest tool in the woodshed, but T.O.'s issues have issues. No one's good enough in bed to put up with all that insanity."

"That's probably it, but now I'm curious." Hasselbeck looks at Tom. "You up for it?"

"Are you kidding, hell yeah, I'm up for it." Tom stands (after giving Cassel a soft kiss) and smirks when Leinart takes the opportunity to slide into Tom's vacant seat. Cassel, for his part, just puts his arm around Leinart's shoulders. "You guys behave while we're gone."

"No promises," Ben says, thankful as hell that he and Hasselbeck aren't really the type for PDAs. It's just weird. But he does offer his Matt a smile. "Don't traumatize Tony too much. If you make him cry, Jerry'll have your ass and not in a fun way."

"Like Jerry Jones would know what to do with this booty," Hasselbeck laughs, and gives his own ass a smack. "He definitely couldn't handle my jelly."

"Guess it's lucky for you I can, then."

Matt's eyes soften slightly. "Maybe we can offer Jerry a few pointers."

"Let's not and say we did." Just thinking about that crazy old dude naked would be enough to kill any boner Ben would ever have for the rest of his life.

"I suppose trying to talk you two out of invading the man's privacy is too much," Cassel says, already looking resigned.

Leinart nudges his side. "It's almost like you know them."

"Alright, do your thing. But if you come back to find me and Matty've gone back to the hotel and Ben's flirting with Alex and Larry's woman, don't say you weren't warned."

"So noted," Tom says, and he and Hasselbeck wave before they head out to hunt Tony down, the poor bastard. Ben's not sure if he should feel sorry for him or not, but figures anyone dumb enough to get in bed with Terrell friggin' Owens probably deserves the Tom and Matt Interrogation Hour.

"So." Ben eyes Cassel and Leinart and rubs his hands together. "Shots?"

Leinart's grin is wide and filled with glee. "Dude, I thought you'd never ask."

***


End file.
